


Strict Instructions

by Foxberry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Dom!Mikasa, Humiliation, Light BDSM, Mistress!Mikasa, Modern AU, Multi, Vibrators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/pseuds/Foxberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikasa tests whether Jean and Marco will give in to her demands following a long tiring week at work and days since she had allowed them any form of release. </p><p>Mikasa has no doubt in her mind that they would obey her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strict Instructions

The warm scent of fresh bread filled the air as little birds fluttered around the bakery’s tables, searching for crumbs. They scattered out of the way as Mikasa took a seat at one of them. It faced across the tiled piazza towards a tiny alfresco café that rose up out of the stone tiles. Pulling out the wooden chair, she gazed across the piazza, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses but assuredly keen in their search to find what they were looking for. She placed her paperback delicately on the table to mark her place. She flipped open to the first page, tracing its edge with a finger decisively. She had no intention of reading today, and this paper prop served as her perfect justification for what would be a very long sitting at a bakery’s café.

Mikasa hummed quietly to herself. Her morning had been an uneventful one with nothing requiring her immediate attention. She had spent her day wandering around the city and seeing to all the errands she had been putting off over the last few weeks. Conference calls and meetings having had taken up most of her time. Her intention now was purely on how the next hour would entertain her. The corner of her mouth curled into a smirk at the thought and her back settled against the iron filigree backrest as she took in the view before her.

Across the tiles gleaming in the afternoon’s sunlight, her eyes continued to search for the purpose of her visit. The alfresco café was a small establishment with no more than 20 tables filling the floor. Tables lead out in straight lines, half sheltered by the café’s own roof. The other half lead onto the piazza, shaded by large white umbrellas where patrons huddled under, hiding from the orange glow of approaching sunset.

It was there that Mikasa found Marco, adjusting the tables back into a straight line while he made his way between customers. He was dressed in black slacks and dress shirt, a white apron tied around his waist. A waiter’s uniform, cleanly pressed and well fitting. His clean-cut appearance made Mikasa smile at the thought of how dishevelled he would be before too long.

She let her eyes wander to the back where Jean would likely be, making and mixing drinks for would-be patrons. At the rear of the café a long dark marble counter ran from wall to wall with only walking space left between the far right wall near the door to the hidden kitchen. It was no surprise to her when she spotted him behind the counter, manning an espresso machine by the register.

He was leaning over the bar with a mug in his hand, gesturing about the difference between styles of coffee no doubt, and watching the searing milk stream into it. His passion for his role as mixologist and barista was unmistakable from even fifty feet away. Mikasa couldn’t imagine what pompous remark he was making to the customer, but she could picture what he would look like when she wiped that smug look off his face. It would be a shame if she couldn’t hear him too, she thought. She was close enough to just make out Marco’s mellow voice detailing the soup of the day, but Jean’s apparent lecture was too far away.

Mikasa adjusted her long coat, the pockets sitting just on her thighs and underneath the table like she had planned. She’d been sure to prepare everything for this afternoon’s entertainment: a book as her cover story and all-around prop; her sunglasses to hide her eyes, and her cell phone so she could check up on them, which she placed on the table. She had even programmed the number of the café on speed dial. She would need that for later. Last of all, she had been sure to leave an envelope this morning for her boys, taped on the back of their front door, where they were certain not to miss it. Mikasa had left strict instructions so they may work their way back into her favor after their previous indiscretions, along with a vibrator for each of them to wear and safe words should they need them. It had been days since she had allowed them any form of release so Mikasa had no doubt in her mind that they would obey her. The true test of whether they had given in to her demands was now.

The last of her preparations was the presense of the two remotes she was fiddling with in her pockets. The timing had to be perfect to make its utmost effect. After days of refusing them, Mikasa had every intention of working them up in the last hour of their shift. Mikasa had every intention of giving them what they wanted, but it was she who decided when and where. This is what they would learn and would be part of their education.

Her thumb lazed around the buttons of the remotes in her pockets. Eyes flickering between her two boys, she tilted her head and carefully considered where to make her first mark. They had better have worn them; she thought as she quickly depressed the button to Jean’s vibrator, testing the distance and clicking it off a moment later.

Jean stood at the back, free from his last customer and wiping down the counter, his eyes gazing out at nothing in particular. He grasped the cleaning cloth tight when he jolted suddenly in surprise, eyes wide before recognition hit him. Mikasa could just make out his eyes searching for the cause. Suspicious and dismissive, he returned to his duties.

Satisfied that the first was working, her eyes turned to Marco, who was currently fetching used glasses off a table outside. She held down the other button a little longer this time. It was only a few short seconds. Marco gasped loudly, stifling his outburst by biting his lip. A few seconds were more than enough. He leaned over the table, one hand pressed against the marble tabletop, pretending he had nearly dropped something while he adjusted the shaking tray in his other hand. When the vibration stopped, Marco shook his head to clear himself and continued with his work, ignoring Mikasa’s intervention.

Mikasa could not allow such dismissals of her efforts from her boys, but she would take her time. Nothing pleased her more than their initial resistance. It was all part of the fun. If they gave in quickly, there would hardly be any play to their game. Though, after refusing them for so long, she couldn’t be sure how long it would take to break them.

To keep up appearances, she flipped the next page of her book, seeming deeply entranced by its words. In reality, she was staring at Jean and letting her finger linger on the remote to his vibrator. She counted the seconds this time, intent on seeing his face as he felt it course through him.

Jean shuddered a moment after she pressed it down again. Three seconds. His breathing grew laboured as he clutched the glass in his hand, and he paused in place. Five seconds. He scrambled to get the glass on the counter before he could drop it and sighed. Lucky, she thought. That could have ended badly. Seven seconds. His eyes closed. Placing his hands on the counter he leaned forward, keeping still for a moment before appearing to be gathering himself, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Ten seconds. He stood with regained composure despite the continuing vibration. He was stubborn. Mikasa would let him have this one, if only to punish him further later. The vibrator was just on the first setting. Her timing was still not quite right yet.

She flipped another page and took a deep breath. Her eyes drawing out of the café she became acutely aware of the people around her. Two men to her left were reading over a contract of sorts, the sound of flickering pages and jargon filtering through the air. Behind her, a mother and her young daughter clinked their spoons against empty milkshake glasses. To her right, a woman slouched in her chair, scribbling madly in a book while she slowly nibbled her way through a bowl of crisped sweet potato. They all looked their part. Mikasa looked suspiciously out of place with nothing more than a book and a phone on her table. As if in response to her concerns, a young man came to place her coffee on the table. Its aroma wafted up to warm her.

"Thank you," she responded, staring at the cup as she brought it to her lips. She let the flavor linger on her tongue before turning her attention back to the café.

A middle-aged couple looked up at Marco’s face with warm smiles to meet his own as he approached them. The couple discussed among themselves, sharing a menu between them, as Marco leaned over on occasion to point out his recommendations. For a moment, Mikasa remarked how sweet he looked being helpful to others. Normally she would have just watched him be the adorable man that he was but Mikasa had a plan in place. She could have no regrets. As he began writing their order, she determinedly pressed the button again.

Mikasa had to grasp the edge of her table tight when Marco’s speech hitched with a sudden breath in as the vibrations hit him.  _This is too good_ , she thought, keeping close attention. The couple in front of him exchanged glances at his sudden change in composure. Mikasa strained her ears to hear what he said next, “I’m very sorry about that.” A blush spread across his cheeks. “I…” He pulled his elbows to his sides, drawing in his arms. Not a completely obvious gesture but Mikasa could tell that the vibrations were starting to get to him. He continued, “am not…  _feeling_ ”, he forced an awkward smile, “one hundred percent. My  _apologies_!” Mikasa took the opportunity to increase the vibrator’s setting, driving Marco’s voice up with it.

“S-s-so…” He chuckled anxiously as he tried to speak and smiled apologetically, tapping his right foot to get himself under control. Mikasa lowered her sunglasses to see how he would get through this. “That was th-the…” His mind struggling to read out what he had just written. Mikasa could only assume he was cursing at his own script-like handwriting. “All day breakfast with bacon, eggs, tomato and mu-mushrooms, the Greek salad without the cucumber, and…” Marco bit his lips, closed his eyes, and tried to remember where he was but found himself getting lost in the waves massaging his prostate, and upon realizing the pause that he had taken, promptly pretended he was about to sneeze. “Heh, hay fever.” He shrugged and spat out the rest in his hurry to finish talking, “Oh, lastly there was the tea for two. English Breakfast, correct?” His voice sounded strained. The notebook in his hands started to shake in his tenuous hold. The couple nodded and Marco walked swiftly to pass on the order, making a sound somewhere between a sigh of relief and one of pleasure. Mikasa admired his perseverance and commitment to his job. He managed to continue despite the vibrator now at the second setting and the growing bulge behind his apron.

Mikasa returned to flipping through her book nonchalantly to bide her time. She was finding herself far too distracted by the show to keep up her charade. The shivers and small tics in Marco’s muscles were signs of his growing frustration. She would have him as a shivering, begging mess soon enough. Nothing could make her happier. The key was time. No need for her to rush through what was left until they finished work.

When she gazed up again, she noticed Jean and Marco at the back counter, having an intense discussion.  _Developments it seems_ , she pondered as she tapped her fingers across the table. Marco seemed to be having difficulty getting any words out while talking to Jean. His lips parted and chest rising as he tried to catch his breathing up to his increased heartbeat. Jean gestured, trying to get more words out of Marco that simply were not coming. They had a way of communicating that didn’t need words, so despite Marco’s struggle Jean had no trouble understanding him. If only it were that easy for her.

Despite their obvious moment, this was too good of an opportunity. With one barely capable of proper speech, it was time she involved Jean too. She couldn’t have him missing out. Her thumb gave an enthusiastic click of the button in her pocket as she readjusted herself in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. Her own heartbeat rose at the idea of being caught, of them being caught, of her boys losing their minds at her little game. A sigh escaped her lips as she saw Jean’s own lips part. His eyes slightly glazed before they rolled back at the change to setting number two. His hand reached back in his hair, grasping it tight, forgetting where he was.  _Oh, how precious_ , she thought with a glimmer in her eye, a hint of her mischievousness verging out beyond her glasses.

Whatever Marco had been saying was forgotten. He steadied himself on the counter and watched as Jean sat the vibrations out before continuing to pour a glass of water for Marco. His hands could barely hold the glass still as he passed it over. Water spilled from the sides, and Marco hurriedly took the glass from him before it fell, sloshing water over his sleeves. Marco’s keen eyes watched Jean closely; even when he drank the entire glass of water in one go. Mikasa took a long and slow sip from her cup in time with him.

Oh, she knew these boys too well. Marco had excellent control but did not do well with surprises, changes, or watching Jean lose it. He was a glutton for his own punishment, pushing himself as far as he could for his masochistic satisfaction, and his eager interest in humiliation made his current predicament all the more enjoyable for him. Even with his apron, even with his maintained composure, there was no mistaking that from where Mikasa sat. With Jean hunched over the counter, his line of coffee mugs forgotten, Marco could not keep his eyes off him. Like Mikasa, watching Jean squirm and writhe was more than he could bear.

While Marco might have been more susceptible to making verbal tics and noises, Jean had a far greater time keeping his cool, especially with prolonged exposure to something he so clearly enjoyed. His voice came out in choked bursts, struggling to make words, even sounds. With Marco so close and watching him, he struggled to stand and slumped over the counter, unable to look Marco in the eye. Being watched and knowing he was being watched always seemed to put him up and over the edge. Mikasa was impressed he was doing so well.

It was then the manager came to check what was going on, shoving the door open with a fist. Muffled sounds and awkward shuffling had likely drawn his attention. He gestured wildly at Marco to get back to work out on the floor, who reluctantly left with one more glance back at the still cowering Jean. Mikasa laughed a little to herself, her concern for those around her fading. More pages were flipped but by this stage she had forgotten that books were generally read by looking at them.

Putting down Marco’s setting, she could see him visibly relax, despite the obvious evidence of his arousal still difficult to hide even while he walked briskly across the café floor. He attempted to reshuffle menus, move trays and adjust tables in every effort to conceal his embarrassment. Despite his efforts, his flustered demeanour became increasingly apparent to neighbouring patrons. Marco found the humiliation exciting; those eyes on him only intensified his sensitivity. His breath grew deeper and progressively laboured, thankfully for him the vibrations had stopped. His leg twitched for a moment. Mikasa watched him carefully. He was enjoying it; the embarrassment, the shame, the prospect of getting caught. He would never admit it, but he never needed to. It was all there for anyone to see if they were looking.

She let him have his peace as the paranoia of the next vibrations grew within his head. Marco had no doubt begun to question where she was, due to the short range of the remotes in question. His eyes scanned out into the piazza, trying to find her.

Marco was familiar with these kinds of games. Normally he had more immediate warning before they began, with Mikasa close by to watch them, and the building anticipation growing as her eyes watched him in earnest. This time Mikasa had given them ample time to prepare themselves, to wait the entire day in a combination of paranoia and excited anticipation. Mikasa had let them know this was coming but had not specified exactly when.

The manager still hovered around Jean, undeniably questioning his health as his face grew red and he spat back defensive excuses for his position. Mikasa bit her lip when she could make out his face straining for an answer to the manager’s barrage of questions. Her fingers started playing with her lip, imagining what kind of curses he was thinking, what excuses he managed to string together.  Jean stood up suddenly, shoulders back and chest slightly puffed out like a man trying too hard to act like everything was normal. The sweat glistened on his forehead from the bar overhead lamps. Mikasa could always count on that when he was nervous. Flustered Jean shook his head, explaining away the growing redness in his face, compounded by the manager’s intrusion into a moment he enjoyed. The manager’s face grew concerned but as the thought of confusion passed on his face, he shook it away. A flicker of relief came across Jean’s face as the manager turned to leave him.

Mikasa would have none of that and turned up the setting by two in a sudden burst. She would not have him thinking it was so easy. Jean growled a loud “Fuck!” that could be heard from her table. It was everything she had been hoping for. Though she couldn’t hear it, she could see his lips form into a shuddering sigh. What she would give to make him moan from here. She chuckled to herself as the manager turned around, looking over Jean with a raised eyebrow and a mouth drawn into a frown. He raised a hand as he started to say something but thinking better of it, paused mid-gesture at Jean’s awkward forced smile and left to sort things out the back. Jean’s embarrassment was visible in his stance, the way he struggled to hold himself. His face red and flushed, his body tensed in a combination of enjoyment and embarrassment, and if Mikasa could have seen his feet, she would have seen his feet crossed, toes curled into the soles of his shoes.

It was then that Jean considered outside the café. His moment of embarrassment passing and his longing growing as the vibrations stopped. Seizing the moment of clarity, he swiftly made the next few coffee orders, lining them in a row for Marco.  _How much more motivated than usual_ , Mikasa thought to herself,  _Why it’s as if he was waiting for something to happen?_ He was almost eager for the next onslaught. She thumbed a page in her book as her eyes centred on him, a panting nervous mess, and she had barely begun. She let them simmer for a few minutes.

Marco was serving another customer this time, an older woman in blue who could not stop the mischievous smile across her face. Jean was at the back perfecting some new coffee art to feed his own ego. Oh, the opportunities were presenting themselves today. _Who should I toy with first?_ she mused. With Jean flustered in the background, waiting for her to strike, she let him stew. His hands were shaking. The sweat was beginning to shine in his hair as he swept it back repeatedly in an attempt to swipe away the myriad of dirty thoughts seated in his mind. The coffee machine had become his shield from the outside world, and if it weren’t for the manager’s presence in the back room, he would have no doubt have fled to finish himself off. Jean was not once for patience in any regard. China slipped from his fingers, twirling to the ground. A swift grab caught it safely but the sudden movement jostled the vibrator, nudging it into his prostate. It sent a shudder through him, and a low groan resonated through him in response. The thought of his discomfort in those pants, growing tighter and tighter, sent a shiver down Mikasa’s spine. She allowed him a reprieve, for the moment.

The older woman at Marco’s table fiddled with the menu before her, the smile ever present on her face. Having stood at her beck and call for the last minute or two, Marco’s own hospitality smile began to waver. It became a conscious effort on his part to appear presentable and professional despite the growing strain to maintain this facade.

Mikasa could see the tell-tale signs of a man beginning to crack. The edges of his mouth constantly adjusted themselves into place as his teeth toyed with his bottom lip. The apron he wore sat slightly lopsided from the many times he had attempted to adjust it to assure himself that no one could tell. His shirt’s sleeves sat tight around his elbow, pushed up as far as the cotton fabric would let him. Heat emanating through him as ghost sensations played with him. His black locks scuffled with hairs just out of place from the nervous playing with his hair. This was too good, Mikasa hummed to herself, ignoring the woman near her, peering over at her with curiosity in their eyes. This was her show to enjoy, and she held the reins.

This older woman he politely waited on tapped her fingers on the marble table top, nails ringing out in short bursts accentuating his precious time she was intentionally taking. Marco would never give away his discomfort, but his current predicament had lowered the tolerance he usually maintained. Sweat beading at his brow, his smile never wavered. Mikasa commended him for his efforts. Though she was hardly surprised since she had trained him ever so well to be her sweet darling soldier. Her lower eyelid twitched at the thought of his obedience and this woman’s clear interested in one of her boys. The flagrant way she bided her timing, asking about everything on the menu with a pretentious flair made Mikasa hold tighter onto Marco’s remote.

Her finger lingered over the button as she listened in closely to the order. Every word she strained to hear disappeared in the afternoon air, swept up by the incoming breeze from the east. Like leaves, the words tumbled away out of her range of hearing, her focus on them becoming more and more intense. Silken fabric draped across the woman’s shoulders with a plunging neckline, cinched waist and adorned with gold from neck to wrist. Her free hand grasped hold of Marco’s right elbow while the other held up the menu for inspection.

As that hand grabbed Marco, Mikasa’s finger pressed hard into the vibrator remote button with a satisfying click. The buzz she sent was short and quick. Marco’s legs shook as his butt cheeks tensed at the sudden rush. His embarrassed eyes met the curiously questioning eyes of his customer. From afar it appeared as if Marco had shivered and withdrew from the woman’s touch. His chuckle broke through the awkwardness, trying to hide the hitch in his breath and the accelerated pulsing of his heart. Regardless of whatever this woman said, whatever her intentions were, Mikasa was having none of it. Her little game would continue.

She stroked the remote slowly, gently, as Marco began to explain some item on the menu, his arms gesturing and pointing to make himself clear. It was sweet. It was perfect, if all for one more thing. Depressed the button sent another wave of vibrations through him, his foot twitching this time, a small pause in his otherwise flawless gesturing before he could continue. Mikasa could see the flicker of longing in his eyes now, how desperately he wanted to be home.

The older woman leaned back, taking in this act before her, carefully considering it. He spoke louder this time in an effort to hide the change in his voice that would otherwise give him away. To Mikasa’s disappointment, he was not yet as flustered or embarrassed as she had been hoping, wanting. The thought of him moaning sent her further down her chair, adjusting her legs into a more comfortable position. Closing her eyes, Mikasa listened to him; to the Marco she hoped to see.

“So,” Marco chuckled awkwardly, “Th-that was the… uh…” He searched for the word he was missing and cheated with the menu this older woman held before her. Noticing his troubles, the older woman smiled, the long fingers curling up to rest by her growing grin. Her bemusement was evident from far away, him being her personal entertainment.

“Soup de jour, topped with croutons,” Breaths intersected between words and his cadence rose and fell with the vibrations. “I believe you also - ahhh!” he exclaimed suddenly, low and sudden like he had just been stroked firmly and gently in an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Mikasa had raised the setting again. Pressing the button again gave her chills and the noises Marco made when he was tested were delicious.

Marco had his eyes closed, hips jerking for a moment in enjoyment before the reality of the woman’s quiet smirk facing him. “Ahhh, that’s right,” he quickly recovered, shaking his head slightly as if it would shake away the urges growing in him. “You were also considering one of the salads,” Marco’s cadence was all but hiding his embarrassment and it did nothing to hide the pleasure he was getting from Mikasa’s distant prods.

“I - !” Just shy of shrill, Marco’s next attempt at talking was cut short. Third setting. The highest so far. Tensed and very stiff, Marco tried his best to gesture to the menu to cover his sudden outburst. His arousal growing with every second he could feel the vibrations course  through him, compounded by the embarrassment and the thought of being caught. Mikasa had to resist the urge to leave her table and drag him away as this was becoming almost too much for her to bear.

“I would recommend…” he continued, his composure gaining slowly. Red spanning across his freckled cheeks refused to abate. “This one.” Marco kept it short this time. His hands retreating to cover his shame in front of him, one hand clasped over the other wrist. As his customer considered his advice, he scanned the piazza, eyes searching. Mikasa sat back up into her seat, shoulders back and attentive.

Suddenly Marco’s head jerked in Mikasa’s direction. Her face and chest flushed as she realised she had been caught out, sinking back down in her chair. She couldn’t say she was surprised but the sudden rush it gave her was undeniable. Admittedly she had hoped this would happen. The stern look on Marco’s face, the tensed muscles from his jawline to his shoulders and down through his back as he resisted the urge to moan had her gasp audibly. She lowered her glasses just enough so he could see her eyes bore into his. He considered her for a moment before mouthing the words “Not now” with quivering lips. In a blink, he was smiling back at the older woman as if nothing had happened. He took the menu from her, tucked it under his arm and sauntered away down the back of the café. A walk he specifically did for her attention on his way directly to Jean.

He circled the bar, grabbing Jean and leaning down to breathe across his neck, moaning soft and long into Jean’s ear as if to relieve tension. Breath shuddering with a resounding inhale brought him back to an upright position as if he had unleashed his burden somehow. His act, Mikasa confirmed, as he stared back at her, was one of defiance.

If she couldn’t get through to Marco, she would hit his weakness at the same time. In quick response, Mikasa clicked the button in her right pocket. Jean’s walk out onto the floor halted suddenly. Marco’s eyes grew wider, vibrations still pulsing through him as he noticed the sudden change in Jean’s demeanour. Jean bit his lip and shuddered, collapsing onto a table, knocking a chair aside. The chair shook to a stop and fell over on its side, drawing the attention of the café patrons. This would surely get him, she thought. A sliver of public humiliation and embarrassment, secret knowledge of their vibrators and now Jean’s inability to maintain his composure were within sight all at once. Mikasa could just make out the quirk of interest on Marco’s face, his breath catching in his chest.

Buried deep into his hair, his fingers grasped firmly in place as if gripping onto his own hair would somehow make the passage of time easier for him. Like he needed something, anything to hold onto. His breathing heavy, loud enough that others could hear. He bit into his lip harder to stifle his moans, inciting Marco’s interest when he turned around, eyes begging for release. Marco’s eyebrows twitched upwards and he glanced out at Mikasa’s cool shaded gaze out at them. From the outside, no one would know it was her doing this. She seemed to barely flicker any hint of interest at what she was doing. Yet her boys had no doubt that she was enjoying this.

A glimmer of an idea shone in Marco’s eye. In a flurry of aprons, he rushed over to Jean, steadying him with a shoulder under his arm. Loudly, for the growing audience for Jean’s display, he asked, “Are you okay, Jean?” They could play it off as some form of illness suddenly taking him. It seemed the only reasonable explanation for the way Jean pressed his forearms into the table and leant forward, huffing for other tables to hear. Jean shook his head. Jean’s head never looked up, eyes downcast and shut, losing himself in the vibrations and continuing to shudder. He was too focused on the vibrator pulsing inside him to answer to Marco’s question but it fit into Marco’s act too perfectly to dismiss. Together they struggled back to behind the counter again. Jean almost too far gone to form coherent words and Marco breathing heavier and heavier with Jean now in his grasp. Marco was beginning to struggle with the heaviness of his eyelids, daring to fall with each deep breath he took in.

Mikasa sat back again, wrapping her fingers around the lukewarm teacup in front of her. She sipped the last dregs of her coffee as the breeze began to pick up. It brought with it the light refreshing smell of incoming rain. Clouds above swept across the sky, twirling like sylph-like dancers. As the young gentleman came by to take her cup, she asked for another with a small passing lie about the book she was pretending to be reading. Whether he believed her or not, his face didn’t change and he left her in peace.

Mikasa recrossed her legs, adjusting her jacket to a comfortable position. She had spent too long to not hear her boys now. She lazily fingered the phone in her hand before setting it to dial the café. The warmth of the screen pressed delicately to her ear, her head turned keenly to see them hide themselves behind the café counter again.

Three long rings circled through the air before Jean grabbed the phone in frustration, Marco gently releasing him to flop on the counter. Hand perched on hip, Marco smiled half-heartedly. He laughed a little at Jean’s insistence to answer the phone, chuckling down to his chest. Mikasa turned down Marco’s vibrator, his face contorted into a mixture of relief and frustrated desire. Marco generally managed to hold himself together. After days of tormenting them and refusing release, as to their own desires, they appears to be begrudgingly enjoying and enthusiastically cursing their predicament. The cracks in Marco’s demeanour were beginning to form and Mikasa could not mistake his increased concentration on Jean.

As he said an exasperated hello, Mikasa switched the vibrator up another notch. Shuddering gasps answered her silence. Loosening her scarf, she smiled to herself, letting it tint her response. “Hello.”

Jean awkwardly bolstered himself up from the bar, elbows pressed hard against the marble but struggling to maintain a steady hold with the vibrations still coursing through him. He stammered nonsense down the phone before forming a “Hello. Thank you for calling Café Celeste. This is Jean. How may I - ” She changed the setting up again. “HELP you,” he yelped like a small excited dog. Marco’s eyes grew wide. His head snapped in Mikasa’s direction. Lips quivering, his face became somewhere between thankful, fearful and longing but ever still a sliver of annoyance at Mikasa’s choice of timing. They pressed together with teeth biting his bottom lip. Mikasa saw no more complaints in him. She had given them fair warning and they had agreed. She would not be doing this otherwise. It was fine line between her escapades and going too far. They had rules. They had plans. This might have been the first time at work, pushing the boundaries, but it wasn’t the first they had ventured out in public. Without the mutual agreement, it could never work. With only twenty minutes left before they would both clock off, Mikasa intended to make every second count, should they even last that long.

Mikasa hummed her amusement into the phone. Her calves rubbed together in her eagerness, satin stockings passing each other in a soft caress. The scarf around her neck shifted lightly as she took a deep breath and answered, “Yes. Hello.” Her voice tittered higher than normal. A deliberate ploy on her part to earn a rise from him.

“Wait.” It took him a moment to consider. His head jerked up, looking in all directions with eyes narrowed and darting. Jean and Marco shared a glance and Marco knew it was her. “Mikasa?” His voice full of doubt and suspicion but deep in that tone she could also hear his wanton need to hear her voice. Jean could never manage to keep his emotions hidden. He was as easy to read close up as he was from where she sat watching him.

She ignored his question. “I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me.” The air around her picked up. The afternoon breeze carrying the smelt of the final last orders before the sun set and everyone would turn home. Bringing the snip of colder temperatures, the wind rustled under the table and whipped around her legs.

“A few questions? What?” His voice rose higher, high-pitch laughter bubbling through his lips unbidden. His shoulders hunched forward as he swallowed a couple of times as if he were trying to keep both his laughter and voice in control.

Head tilted, she continued, “Yes, as I said, I have a few enquiries regarding your establishment.”

“What the hell is this, Mikasa? I know it’s you.  Both Marco and I know it’s you.” Fingers splayed around his forehead, working his temple in a circle with his forefingers. “How much longer are you going to put us through this?”

“What are your opening hours?” She said flatly, raising an eyebrow in her anticipation of his next words.

“What? You know when they are. This is ridiculous. Wait, are you saying…” It may take him time to catch on to her word games but she could count on him always getting there eventually. He turned to Marco, whose mouth was slightly agape at Jean’s continued refusal to fall apart at the seams. “Marco, we finish soon right?”

At his name, he snapped to attention, stammering sounds and blinking his eyes several times before he stopped with a quick shake of his head. Nodding, he made out with an “Mmhmm.”

If Jean noticed, he gave no glimmer of it. “Soon. Okay. If we make it until the end of our shift, will you ease up please? I’m trying to…  _deny_ … myself… at this stage.” Jean always seemed to struggle with euphemisms. Hand over the microphone, Mikasa chuckled.

“Yes, I would like to know what I can best plan my next meeting.”

“Oh my god.” Jean’s hands were now intertwined in his hair, having migrated back from his forehead, a guttural moan murmured in her ear before it become a pathetic whisper of whine. “Let it down please. Oh  _please_.”

“Oh, do you not entertain such things then?”

“No, no. I just…”

“Once the initial stages of planning were over, I was hoping to escalate the festivities so to speak.”

“Hhhuhh.” Jean’s words dissolved into a stream of hot breath into the phone. She’d hit a nerve there.

Just behind her the young gentleman cleared his throat. Catching his gaze and maintaining eye contact, she spoke into the phone, “Just a moment.”

“Yes.” She said in turn to the waiter, turning up each vibrator in turn, phone still pressed to her ear. The gentleman took her direction and placed the coffee before her. Jean let out a sighing moan that drew Mikasa to close her eyes to savour it, taking a deep breath in as if she were savouring the scent of her new coffee. Eyes open, she turned to the waiter, Jean’s gasping still in ear, and dismissed him with a “Thank you.”

“Sorry about that. Where was I?” she responded through the phone again, stirring her coffee idly with a teaspoon.

“Apparently, you’re at the bakery café across from us.” It was Marco’s voice this time.

Jolting her shoulders up by the smallest of margins, she looked up to meet his gaze with wide eyes behind her frames. Her voice never faltered. “Location is very important in these things.”

He bit his lip slowly, passing a glance at Jean huddled into a mess across the bar, losing all sense of shame and concern of onlookers. Eyes alight with determination, Marco exhaled into the phone slowly. Mikasa took in a deep slow breath, her heart beat growing faster and a hot flush spread across her. He whispered in her ear, “Well…” His voice deeper and raspier with every intention of breaking her. “As you can see, we are _quite_ ,” he paused and emphasised the word. She could just make out how he thrust his hips slowly forward as his eyes set on hers, “Eager to please.”

She swallowed as quietly as she was able, pausing to straighten out her voice. “Whatever happened to the other gentleman I was speaking with?”

He matched her tone, despite the struggle. “Jean is currently indisposed and unable to hold normal conversation. His ability to form words is somewhat compromised.”

“Oh? How peculiar.” Her voice flat but a hint of a smile still in her voice. “I hope it’s not something that catches on.” She switched Marco’s vibrator higher. “That would be rather unfortunate.” She growled in a whisper through her phone to not raise suspicion.

“Oh?” He growled back at her. “There better be a pay-off to this.” Looking at him, he was almost as dishevelled as she had been hoping. His top buttons were undone and shirt slightly agape. His hair messed up from constantly touching it, no trace of it ever having been neat. He had pushed his sleeves up his arms, crinkled into position above his elbows.

“Is that a demand? I don’t respond well to demands.” She switched off the vibrator to a small sound of frustration Marco could not stop himself from making.

“No, ma’am, I would never dream to demand anything from you. What happened to your cute cover story?” He had caught her there and she had faltered from her plan. Talking about making plans with an establishment and not responding to demands likely did not seem like congruent conversation to eavesdroppers.

“You had best get back to work,” she purred. “I wouldn’t want to deprive others of your charm.” He licked his lips, his tongue forcing its way between a growing smirk. With no more to say, Mikasa winning the final word, Marco walked out onto the café floor and slid the phone across the counter. It jostled across the marble, skittering finally into Jean’s waiting hand. Mikasa uncrossed her legs, fixing one foot over the ankle of the other under her chair. Leaning forward on her left elbow, phone held tight against her right ear and chin digging into the palm of her hand, she looked ready to pounce. All she could see was Jean.

“You’re still on the phone?” An exasperated voice answered.

“I hadn’t said goodbye. “ She spoke amused, as if it were obvious, ending it with a laugh.

“I’ve been here for a good ten minutes, Mikasa. Maybe more.” He worked out by peering up at the register clock and looked down below his waist at his crotch. “Holy crap. I can’t leave the counter now.”

“Oh?” Pleased she said no more. Teasing him always raised his blood pressure. She had no intention of letting him relax. All he need say were the words and she would stop everything. Jean was too prideful and stubborn to let his desires get the better of him. She could tell him as much but that would break protocol.

“Well you can just make coffees for the last ten minutes. You don’t need to leave the counter.” She suggested benignly.

“You know the boss. He won’t just let me stand here during close.”

“I might have to come get myself another coffee then.”

Straightening his back to stare out at her, he rested his chin on the edge of the counter, staring out at Mikasa in disbelief. “Don’t you dare.”

“I always do like your…” She paused for effect; Jean’s heavy breaths punctuating her silence, “ _touch_.”

Lost in her voice and not responding, Jean flopped back onto the counter top. He wanted to lose himself in the moment, phone held gingerly against his ear, but clung onto reality with his cheek pressed against cold marble. The door to the back slammed open, clinking the bar’s liquor collection together, shaking the counter and waking Jean up from his daydream. Even Mikasa could make out the noise from where she sat. His booming voice resonated through the phone a moment later.

“Seriously, if you’re going to just lie and sleep so blatantly in public, you might as well go the fuck home.”

Jean fumbled to hang up the phone call and hide it before his manager could notice. In a huff and a few choice words, the man left Jean to return to his work out back. Whatever else he had said, only Jean knew.

Mikasa pushed her sunglasses up from her nose to rest on her head, placing her phone slowly back onto the table before her. Her body tensed. Jean fell out of her view, sliding down to the floor and out of her sight. She debated with herself over whether she should get up and walk over to him or wait where she sat. The setting sun’s deep orange light glinted in her narrowing eyes. In her concern she turned down both the vibrators. It was hardly fun when she couldn’t see them both.

With bated breath she waited, exchanging glances with Marco when Jean still had not stood up from his position. After a few minutes a dejected Jean trudged slow out from behind the counter and made his way over to Mikasa. He passed Marco with only a passing glance and nothing more, his face down-turned and staring at the piazza tiles. A touch of pink across his cheeks as he came closer, avoiding her eyes and pressing his lips together to maintain composure. Hands laced together before him to hide his crotch. A gesture that looked no less awkward than he did.

“So…” he began after standing at her table in silence and sighing, “I’m free to go home now.”

“Is everything okay?” Mikasa said with a raised eyebrow, noticing his fidgeting fingers, raised shoulders and twitching leg.  
“It will be.”

Mikasa chuckled. “Do you want to wait here or in the car?”  
He stared at her through lowered eyelids. His face expressionless but teeth pressed tightly together.

“Car it is.”

When their shift finished Mikasa stood waiting by the edge of the café, hands deep into her pockets. The vibrators off but not forgotten. Marco strolled out of the café to meet her, dusting the last of the crumbs off his sleeves. “So where’s Jean?”

“He’s in the car, sitting on his hands.” They both looked over to see Jean staring intently at the back of the passenger side headrest. “I am somewhat impressed at his self-control.”

Marco laughed heavily, catching himself from leaning too much with each laugh, still sensitive from Mikasa’s game. Vibrator still in place. “How quickly can we get home?”

“Well, I’m driving.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](http://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/post/93678652777/strict-instructions-7624-words-by-foxberry-ao3).
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/).


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